


A/B/O Mine

by SunlitGarden



Series: A/B/O Mine Series [1]
Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Alpha Jughead Jones, Alpha Veronica Lodge, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alternate Universe - High School, F/M, Knotting, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Omega Betty Cooper, Scent Marking, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-08
Updated: 2019-02-08
Packaged: 2019-10-24 14:13:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17705786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunlitGarden/pseuds/SunlitGarden
Summary: Her gaze flickers nervously across his neck. “Juggie, I—what if I’m an Omega too?”“It’s just hormones, Betty,” he whispers, subconsciously leaning closer, tongue swelling with the urge to place it along her skin.He tries not to think about the way that Omegas are built to milk their Alphas, to fuck and love them into infinity. That they could have forever.~~Jughead’s barely able to suppress the Alpha instinct to claim Betty as his own, especially when she smells so damn good. But once she’s in heat, all restraint goes out the door. Betty Cooper needs him. Omega needs him. And he’s her Alpha, with or without a soul mark to claim him.





	A/B/O Mine

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first A/B/O fic, but I did some research and thought it was interesting so keep in mind hormones go wild here. They're teens. There's a lot of sex. Overwhelming feelings. Lots of licking. Not your kink? See you next time and have a wonderful day!

A desperate aura seems to hover in the way Betty holds her shoulders, even the muscles just under her eyes clenching as she half-listens to Archie’s latest music-football-scheduling fiasco.

“Uh-huh. Hey, Arch? Could you walk me to the Blue and Gold?”

Jughead’s eyebrow hunches.

 _He’s_ been her go-to for weeks lately. At least, more than he used to be. After Polly disappeared, and Jason with her, Betty’d practically thrown herself at Jughead. Not…not like _that_. Betty was never like that.

Not with _him_ , anyway.

He eyes his best friend with an uncomfortable distaste.

What does Archie have that he doesn’t have?

_Besides a house, disarming smile, and a six pack?_

But that line of thinking never gets him anywhere. It's fine. Betty was probably going to ask Archie to the Valentine’s Day dance and…

_Rip his heart into tiny pieces._

Veronica arches an eyebrow at the pair leaving the table as they gather their things and head back to the main building.

“What’s all that about?”

“I don’t know.” He tries not to think about squishing the apple that Betty so kindly bestowed upon his tray. The one a shade away from Archie’s hair. It smells sweet, almost like her, but less salty. It would be juicy and ripe and dripping down his _chin…_

_Fuck._

Jughead slumps further down onto the cafeteria table. It’s time for more suppressants. Maybe he’ll swing by the nurse’s office on his way to class.

“Do you think it’s about me?”

 _Is everything?_ he wants to snark, but Kevin’s looking _far_ too eager for a reaction, so he resorts to an indifferent snort.

“Well. I’m going to find out,” she declares, exiting the booth with all the confidence of someone who’s had velvet ropes unclipped for her all her life.

“It’s obvious they want some privacy _._ I’d just pester them after, if you’re so desperate for answers.”

“Mm. But you see, I’m me, and you’re you.”

And with that nugget of motivation, she flounces off, reeking of testosterone and dumping the perfectly good remnants of her lunch in the trash.

 _And that_ , he thinks rather snidely, _is just one of the many reasons Betty is a better person than you._

Kevin’s grinning, chin supported by his fist. “What was it like before she came here? I honest-to-god can’t remember. An _Alpha_ female. It’s mind-boggling.”

“You do remember the red-haired cherry _bombshell_ who claims alpha female status at our school, right?”

“But that’s just it—it’s a _claim_. Cheryl may like bossing people around, but people can _smell_ the Alpha on Veronica.” He leans in as though Jughead has had a personality transplant and is _dying_ to know the latest gossip. “There’s a rumor that Jason was actually the one supplying Cheryl the pheromones,” Before Jughead has the opportunity to shrivel into the horrors of his imagination, Kevin gestures, “But now that the honey-pot’s dried up…”

It’s no secret that Cheryl Blossom wants to be Queen Bee of Riverdale High. And, well…not being a _beta_ sort of makes a person stand out.

Reggie claims to be an Alpha, even though Jughead’s pretty sure the “testosterone” smell and pheromones were mostly due to proximity to Jason Blossom and some kind of steroid herbal supplement Jughead found after breaking into Reggie’s locker. For investigative purposes, of course.

_For Betty._

Something swells uncomfortably in his chest, so he eats to quell it down. He’ll need food in his stomach for the suppressant to work, anyway.

The apple sits plump and curved and wonderful, rocking innocently on his tray, waiting for its turn to be devoured.

 

Feeling slightly nauseous due to the effects of the suppressant, Jughead barely even registers he’s being spoken to until he’s already closed his locker and realizes his best friend is standing in his way of escape.

“Oh. Hey.”

“Hey?” Archie looks incredulous, thumbs looped and straining against his backpack. “Did you pick up any of what I just said to you?”

 _No. And for god’s sake don’t tell me. If I have to hear about you not being_ **_sure_ ** _you feel that way about Betty one more fucking time…_

“Sorry. Lunch isn’t sitting well. What’s up?”

Melting a little, Archie looks forlorn. “Betty happened.”

“Tell me about it,” he mumbles.

“What?”

“Go on,” he sighs, trying to feign a studious expression and not glaze out and see if he can detect her scent on him. Because that’s weird, and invasive, and it’s not like Archie smells all that great to begin with.

“She…” Archie bites his lip, glancing down the hall like he’s about to get whacked by the F.B.I. “She asked me if I ever thought I was an Omega.”

“A what?”

He _knows_ what it is. The supposed subservient in a relationship. The hormonally perfect pairing to an Alpha, a fertile nurturer. But why the hell would Betty be asking that?

“Omega!” Archie hisses, like the word is _dirty_. And maybe in some ways it is. Lapdog. Whipped. But it’s just another term (an arbitrary label) to denote they excrete more pheromones of a certain kind. It’s not like it’s a _sin_ to produce less testosterone and more estrogen. “Said maybe that was why I was so vulnerable to Grundy or something. Can you believe that?”

Jug raises a shoulder, considering it. “I dunno, Arch. I mean, hypothetically you _could_ be.”

“No. _No._ ” Archie frowns, pushing his shoulders back like standing up straight automatically makes him more… _whatever he should be._ “I am _definitely_ not an Omega. Maybe I’m not an Alpha, but I could be. We’re only 16. I still have time to come into it, or whatever.”

“True.”

But Jughead’s already half-checked out of the conversation, his mind running through every line of possibilities. _Why did she ask that? Why to Archie?_

_Fuck._

_Is she gonna be an Alpha?_

But then it makes sense. _Veronica_. Betty deduced that Archie may fit better with the new girl and…

 _There we go_. The world makes perfect sense again.

“So, what did she say? What did you say?”

“She said she was thinking about it, and me being an Omega made _sense_. Said she was worried about me being vulnerable, especially since Ronnie was around more often these days.”

“Ah.”

“And I mean, she asked me—” Archie smooths the short cropped hair on the back of his head. “She asked me what it was like—if I ever felt out of control when Grundy asked me to get into the car. That kind of stuff. And how she could expect to protect me against things like that. Alpha/Omega things. I mean, you know Betty, helpful almost to a fault, but I couldn’t talk to her about that kinda stuff.”

Jughead nods, not sure what else to say. He feels adrift in the halls, playing the part of another mindless Beta, a drone. Which is what he needs to be if he wants to graduate with a chance of being alive. Although now that Jason Blossom’s gone, maybe…

_No. It’s too dangerous. And it’s way more attention than a guy named Jughead could ever want._

“I just…she seems so worried. Maybe…I mean, what if she’s right? It’s super rare that Betty’s wrong about _anything_ , but something big like this? I can’t imagine…” Archie looks so helpless that for a second Jughead actually feels bad for the guy.

“So what if she is, Arch? She cares about you. We all do.” He slaps his blood-brother on the shoulder. “I like you and your pheromones in a purely platonic, let’s get milkshakes after school kinda way.”

“Yeah, but… _Omega_?”

“I wouldn’t worry about, it Arch. You are what you are. You love who you love.”

Jughead inhales deeply, instinctively searching for a hint of green-apple scented lip balm in the halls.

 

This Archie thing must have Betty really riled up, because she’s sitting on the Blue and Gold couch with her _feet_ curled up at the edge of the cushion. Alice Cooper would not approve.

He kind of wants to rub the arch of her soles in congratulations.

_Stop thinking about touching her. Distract yourself._

“You talk to Polly since we found her?”

The disaster of the weekend was finding her sister, but Betty had been pretty tight-lipped about the details. Only repeating, “She’s safe,” with a furrowed brow that still hasn’t left her face. Especially since Veronica keeps pestering dear stage-fright-ridden _Archiekins_ about singing a song with her onstage at the Valentine’s Dance.

“I…yeah, a little.”

It’s weird for her to be this closed-off with him. Normally he’d let it slide like ugly warm jello down his back, leaving a nice, sticky slime trail. This time, though, he finds himself leaning on the desk directly across from her, waiting until she shyly looks up with those perfect meadow-green eyes.

“Talk to me.”

She takes a deep breath, unsure.

“Talk to me.”

The air rumbles a little.

_Shit._

Brow furrowing again, Betty tilts her head. He knows she studies people for clues, but it doesn’t stop something from purring in his chest when she focuses on _him_.

_Talk to your Alpha, Betty._

He blinks a little more forcefully than normal, willing the urge to touch her throat and bury his nose in her scent glands to dissipate.

“I’m just a little scared. About her situation. She’s pregnant. Just…suddenly pregnant, and _bonded_ , and…it’s with Jason, Mr. Big-Alpha-Asshole-on-Campus and…” her mouth opens, floundering, like when she was trying to find something nice to say about Kevin’s production of _Pygmallion_ besides, “The costumes were great.”

Exhaling, Jughead feels some of his stress leave his body. It’s probably stupid that he’s relieved she’s not stressed about Archie. Selfish, even. But he can’t control his…he can’t control much of anything.

“That’s a lot for anyone to handle.”

“But I’m not even handling it,” she tenses, shoulders scrunching up. He tucks his hands under his armpits so he doesn’t envelop her into his arms. “It’s Polly. But it’s just—that’s not—it’s not even all I have to worry about. It’s like—the _implication._ ”

“What implication?”

“That—“ the words trap themselves in her throat, and he finds himself mirroring the furrow in her brow, his own throat closing up.

“You can tell me, Betty.”

Looking worn-down, she quirks an eyebrow at him, her gaze lingering on his mouth like maybe he’s about to judge her. _Really?_

He nods gently, _of course._

She smells so _good_.

“Polly’s an Omega, Jug.”

The air flattens and spreads throughout the room.

“She—she said she wasn’t _sure_ until they started…getting close enough to be against each other’s glands, and then everything just…she needed him. And he needed to take care of her.”

He knew Betas were similarly affected as Omegas to Alpha scents, if to a lesser degree. But that could mean a surge in almost anything: arousal, excitement, fear, an increase in blood-flow that led to more fights and aggression than even alcohol did. But when a compatible Omega and Alpha were together…supposedly the rest of the world fell away in a haze of euphoria. And in a place like Riverdale, maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing.

“Well, shit.”

“Exactly! It’s _absurd!_ They got so caught up in scents and hormones that Jason even apparently tried screwing other betas to _get his head on straight_. Oh but, not to worry, she said, he _really did_ love her, and couldn’t go through with it with those other girls! Now they’re stuck with each other for the rest of their lives, all because our town only has like _three_ Alphas and a handful of Omegas. I mean, at first I thought maybe he was manipulating her with Alpha hormones. I tried to talk to Archie about it, but—” Her short-clipped nails rake through her perfect, smooth ponytail. “It’s nature. What am I supposed to—is that all there is to life for an Omega? Mating with their Alpha and staying home with the kids?”

His neck flushes, and he’s not sure how much testosterone he’s giving off, so he pulls the collar of his shirt up in the hopes it’ll be muted. “Of course not. Omega is just a label, Betty. It’s just hormones.”

Her eyes are large and sharp and clear. “Polly couldn’t talk about anything except Jason and the babies, Juggie. She’s…she lost herself.”

To that, he doesn’t know what to say. So he stands. A hand sinks down on her shoulder, not quite up to her glands. “Hey. You’re not your sister. You’ll be okay. I promise. You’re so strong, and I’ll look after you.”

She blinks up at him, thinking. His thumb twitches in the urge to climb higher, to rub her scent glands until the room is filled with her.

“I…” Choking on the increase of her hormone release, Jughead trembles at the way her gaze tentatively traces his face, his lips. She _needs_ him. “Betty…”

“What?”

He can _feel_ the pheromones struggling to break free of his glands. His wrists ache. His neck is throbbing. And her eyes are getting cloudy so maybe…

_Fucking suppressants._

He swallows, trying not to alarm her, even if the pheromones might help. They could help. They might…soothe her.

_But it would be manipulating her._

Taking a deep breath, Jughead tries to focus on massaging her shoulder, ignoring the pull in his veins to rub himself all over her. “You’re gonna be okay.”

“Juggie…” Seeking comfort, Betty slides forward and wraps her arms around his shoulders in a hug.

_Betty._

His body practically vibrates with need.

_Touch her. Mark her._

But he won’t. He’s stronger than that. That doesn’t stop his body from trembling when she nuzzles her nose into his chest, pupils dilating.

“Juggie…I can actually smell you when I get this close. Why do you hide it under all these layers?”

 _So no one will know_.

“I don’t know. A man isn’t always proud of his natural musk.”

“I like it,” she hums, nuzzling her cheek against the soft T-shirt under his flannel. There’s a pounding, a deep-seated need rising in his veins. It sinks into his gums, the pull all the way in his bones, his teeth. And then her lips are pushing into his shirt, not quite a kiss, almost like she’s trying to draw his scent out of him.

“Wh—What are you…?”

Looking down is a mistake. All he sees is pink lips at his clothes, her tempting neck craning. The subtle curve of her nose disappearing as it grazes his jaw so she can sniff higher.

_His glands. Fuck, his glands!_

“Betty…”

The sound of air subtly pulling at his skin and _entering her system_ is too much. His skin feels like it’s ready to tear off of his body and he’s almost sure that even his sleeves are soaked through with pheromones, rubbing along her waist, working her up into this… _state_.

The warmth of her breath sends a shiver down his spine.

_Lick me, Betty. Lick me._

“Jug…” Her voice trembles, and he can feel her heartbeat thrumming through her chest.

_She’s not in her right mind. You’ll hurt her. You’re too…too much for her._

“Wait!” he says sharply, pushing her back by the shoulders. The shock on her face almost makes him want to tear off his clothes and make it up to her by fucking her so hard into the couch that its legs break. What an apology. Broken furniture and an orgasm.

“I’m…I’m sorry, Betty, I have to go.”

Stunned, she can barely manage a word before he grabs his things and high-tails it out the door. He will _not_ break Betty Cooper. He’ll rip his glands out before he makes her do something just because of his _biology_.

 

They play phone tag that night. An awkward, bright, “Hi, it’s me, Betty. I, uh, I just wanted to talk to you about today. I’m so sorry for invading your personal space. I shouldn’t have…I shouldn’t have smelled you like that. It’s been a weird couple of weeks. Anyway. Call me? Bye.”

“Betty? It’s me, Jughead. I, uh, I don’t want you to think…I didn’t…anyway, maybe call me back? Or I’ll see you at school? Talk to you later. Bye.”

It’s terrible. He tosses and turns at night, finally caving and jerking off in the shower until the water runs cold.

_I love you._

Watching his dick soften is depressing.

Alpha-Omega sex is supposed to be better than this. More fulfilling. Masturbating is just sort of skimming off the top of what an orgasm _could_ be without a proper mate. But he doesn’t want to sleep with anyone.

_Well...okay, he does want to sleep with one particular person._

Guys like Reggie brag about “Alpha-Prick” in the hopes they can get Betas curious enough to try it out, but all Jughead sees is an extra weight he has to deal with. He doesn’t _want_ a bunch of Vixens bending over in front of him in gym, bothering him in his booth at Pop’s, or even dealing with Omega courting.

It doesn’t help that Jughead came into his Alpha slowly, with Jason beating him down at every opportunity on some subliminal territory and hierarchy bullshit. Jughead almost couldn’t bear to be near the Cooper house because of the scent of Polly and Jason’s poor attempt at secret sex. Jason’d _marked_ the house as under _his_ protection, which certainly hadn’t sat well with the Coopers. Nor him.

And now Jason and Polly were gone.

And he was an Alpha.

But the only other supposed Alphas at school were Reggie Mantle, Cheryl Blossom, and Veronica Lodge, generally people he _despised_ and had no urge to be compared to nor interact with on a daily basis. Plus…gentle people like Betty and Archie might not feel comfortable around him anymore. He might _influence_ people the same way his dad does, or the same way alcohol influences FP. The way Grundy probably manipulated Archie.

Betty’s so smart.

Smart enough to pry up anybody’s secrets.

Jughead glares the suppressants in his medicine cabinet and _burns_.

 

Horrifyingly large paper cutouts with ridiculous glitter and lace accents line the hallways. There’s even a pink one taped to his locker.

“Why?” he asks the universe, peeling it off with the same enthusiasm as pushing a dead fly off a swatter.

He glances up when he senses a shift in the air. Almost like a stomach rumble but through his whole body, like someone’s watching him. Betty’s huddling her binder into herself, looking a little pale and sweaty. The green in her eyes seems darker today, unsettled. Glancing at the peeled paper heart in his hands, she turns away, quickly swirling the end of her ponytail in one hand as if to make sure it’s still there.

Weren’t they supposed to talk today?

Annoyed at the tape still clinging to his fingers, Jughead shoves the paper heart in his locker and stalks after her. Unfortunately, she seems to be sidelined by a full-size kissing booth in the Student Lounge. Dark, expertly manicured hair and an expensive-looking tailored black and red dress help accentuate that Veronica Lodge is really in all her Alpha glory behind something designed to make money off her stature. Boys are practically salivating in line. Jughead smells Archie’s arousal and nerves somewhere amidst them. Being attuned to Archie is different than being attuned to Betty, but it’s weird nonetheless. His two best friends…

Veronica waves dramatically upon spotting (or smelling) her blonde friend trying to cringe her way past the crowd.

“Make room for Bettykins!”

 _Great_.

“You get one on the house,” Veronica teases, angling her face so sharply and suddenly that it almost looks like she was going to give an air kiss and changed her mind at the last second in an attempt to leave a red imprint on the perfect cheek presented dutifully by her friend.

 _Mine_.

 _Don’t fucking growl,_ he reminds himself, trying to control the vibrations in his chest, the curl of his fist. But he can’t stop himself from moving closer, desperate to push himself between a much-too-pleased looking Veronica and a _very_ jittery Betty.

“B, you smell _really_ good today. Is that a new perfume? Or are you…”

Betty steps back, accidentally pressing against Jughead’s approach. “No. I just…I’m not feeling well. Might be the medicine.” Swallowing, Betty can’t quite seem to meet his eyes. She’s trembling full-on now, waves of pheromones wafting off of her.

Veronica smiles like a cat that ate the canary. Instinctively, his nostrils flare. She’s smelling his girl. The same arousal…the same _nerves_ that he’s smelling.

“Don’t worry about it, Betty. That’s just the effect of an Alpha. Just imagine if I’d kissed you on the mouth!” She laughs. It’s not _mean_ , but he wants to stake her with one of the stupid fake arrows on her display nonetheless. Betty doesn’t say anything, still tongue-tied and trembling. Before Jughead can pull her aside, Veronica’s frowning in distaste and some guy is pushing at his back for _cutting the line_. “Jughead? Really? I didn’t think I’d see you here.”

“I’m not.”

“You seemed pretty eager to get to the front of the line.”

“Don’t flatter yourself.” Although that _is_ what the Alphas he knows seem to do. Egomaniacs.

“Is this a hate-to-love me kinda thing?” she sighs, rolling her eyes. “A strong woman isn’t _emasculating,_ Jughead. Maybe if you presented yourself as more than a jealous Beta, somebody might be interested in you, too. Not me, obviously. But someone.” The careless way she waves him off is probably not even meant to be an insult.

There is no _someone_. There’s _one person._

“This may come as a shock to you, Veronica, but I’m perfectly comfortable in my masculinity or lack thereof. Nor do I care about your line of mindless hormone-manipulated adorers.”

“Really,” she seethes, and he can see the way her shoulder muscles ripple. The pheromones are different now. Territorial. “You think people like me just because of my hormones? I can _smell_ the angry adrenaline pouring off of you, even more than I can smell Betty’s arousal. And that’s pretty impressive, considering she’s having an Alpha moment.”

His teeth sharpen and ache, and he doesn’t even realize when he rubs his wrist along Betty’s back, pulling her into his side.

“Leave Betty’s pheromones out of it.”

“If it gets your heinous stench away from my stand, sure. And for future reference, nobody cuts the line unless I invite them to.” Her teeth snap into a smile.

Posturing just a little, Jughead makes sure to rub Betty’s back as he leads her away. “Enjoy your little money-making ego stroke, Madame Lodge.”

“Gladly,” she snarls, nails cleaving into her impromptu extortion plot. “Next!”

Betty and Jughead shoulder their way out of the throng of over-eager Betas and into the hall. It’s only when they’re in the hall that he realizes they’ve been rubbing each others wrists. His hands smell like her.

“Shit,” he mutters, knowing he’s just gonna stuff his nose in his palm for the rest of the day, rub himself out to her scent until he’s smothered with her.

Betty’s mouth falls open. “I…sorry. Something’s wrong with me, I just…I’ve gotta go.”

“Betty, wait!” His hands have a mind of their own, once again closing around her wrist, pushing up the sleeve of her sweater so he’s coated in her scent. Her arousal.

_A fucking masochist is what you are, Jones._

Trembling, she stays put. For one horrifying second he wonders if he’s used an Alpha command on her.

“Jug, I…I can’t be around you today. I’m…can we go somewhere and talk?”

“What, on the phone?”

“No, I…” She’s trembling, panting, gazing at him with such desperation that he almost just tugs her into his arms right there in the middle of the hall. “I guess it’s okay. Come on.”

With surprising determination, Betty tugs him in the direction of the Blue and Gold. Once he figures out where they’re going, he increases his pace so he can open the door for her and lock it behind them.

_God, the smell._

She must be sweating out of every pore, because her glands are definitely spewing out arousal and nerves with the same enthusiasm as perfume testers at department stores. Veronica’s cheek kiss can’t have done all of this.

“Jesus,” he mutters, thumbing the vein on the inside of her wrist, trying to resist bringing it to his mouth.

_Just a taste…_

His teeth ache, and it takes considerable self-restraint not to push himself against her.

“I think maybe with the stress of Polly and everything, my body is _reacting,_ ” Betty says, voice trembling. “I think I might be going into heat.”

His veins stretch like molten gold, trying to break out of his skin. Nostrils flaring, he inhales.

_Arousal. Fear. Desperation. And Betty._

“I thought only Omegas get heats? And Alphas get…”

If he says the word _rut_ , he’s going to get a fully-blown erection.

“They do.” Betty’s eyes are shiny. “I just…I can’t explain it. I’ve been…I’ve had _desire_ before. But this feels bigger. There’s something inside of me, Jug, something that _needs_ …” Her chest heaves with impatience, frustration. “Something. I don’t know. I don’t know what this is, or why it’s happening, but I know I need it to stop.”

“Are you sure that’s what it is?” he asks, cupping her cheek and smoothing away the faint trace of Veronica.

“No, but what else is it? I mean, you can _smell_ me. I’m a mess! I’m…” She closes her eyes, pushing her sleeves down as if that’ll shut off her pheromone glands. “Ever since we hugged yesterday I can’t stop thinking about _touch_ , about…how Polly said she didn’t know what she was until…”

“Until they got close to each other’s glands, right?”

It’s like his ribs are shifting in his chest, puffing bigger, aching even more than his teeth and his wrists.

Her gaze flickers nervously across his neck. “Juggie, I—what if I’m an Omega too?”

“It’s just hormones, Betty,” he whispers, subconsciously leaning closer, tongue swelling with the urge to place it along her skin.

He tries not to think about the way that Omegas are built to milk their Alphas, to fuck and love them into infinity. That they could have forever.

“It’s just…I don’t want to need an Alpha, Jug. I don’t want to be forced to be with someone like Reggie Mantle because my body says I _should_ be. I mean, what about what _I_ want? Outside of my crazy…needy, body?”

“You’re not crazy.” His hands frame her face, hoping to prevent staring at her neck and focus on her eyes. “You’re not crazy,” he repeats with an intensity that makes his voice vibrate.

“Juggie…” She tugs on his layers, gripping his shirt in a way that makes his throat hum at the possibility of having it ripped off his body, of her using it to cling to and climb him. “I feel like I don’t belong to myself anymore, I…”

“It’s okay.”

_You belong to me._

“Juggie—I don’t want an Alpha, I just want to be myself, I want—”

Shoving his forehead against hers, they seem swallowed by the closeness, the mutual arousal flaring between them. “It’s okay. You have options. You can take suppressants, or you can embrace it. We can...I can…let me help you.”

He’s nearly wheezing, choking on her desperation. He could take her to the nurse, but Alphas on the way will _know_ that she’s desperate, and that might be humiliating for her. His own suppressants are still at home. But there are other ways...other _things_ that can help.

“How?” Her gaze is still firmly fixed on his lips, noses rubbing together as her fingers creep up towards his neck.

“What’s—what’s something that makes you feel good? Something that helps take the pressure off?”

“You.” She blinks, seemingly taken-aback as her thoughts scramble amidst the hormone cloud they’re swimming in. “I’m—I’m sorry, you don’t have to do anything. I mean, being with you…like, investigating, doing the paper, holding you. Feels good.” Despite the haze of pheromones, everything seems so earnest that he wants to bury his face in her neck and suck. Judging by the way it’s getting harder for her to speak, her tongue is expanding too.

He’s read about this. About mating. Marking.

“Hold me, Betty,” he encourages, “If you need… _anything_ —”

“But I don’t want to take advantage of—”

“I want you, too.”

Her lunge knocks into him with such force that he actually resents taking his pheromones last night. Betty doesn’t just _hold_ him, she clings like she can butterfly their rib cages open if only she pressed their sternums together in just the right combination. Her breath comes out in heavy pants, fingers scrambling over his shoulders to pull back his collar and unleash the scent she craves.

“I need you,” she murmurs, each kiss to his neck sending white pulses of stars to his brain.

_Mine._

“Fuck. _Yes_.” Overcome, he lifts her up, dick rising to the occasion as her legs wrap around him. Her heat and arousal seems to weave into him with every step. He carefully sets her on the corner of the large sturdy desk, where she can grind easier without having to spread her thighs. “What do you need?”

“I don’t know. Everything? Touch. Can I—can you lick me?”

Shuddering, he leans down and sucks against her gland on her neck. The cry she emits makes his cock twitch harder, and he grinds it for her relief, her fingers cleaving at his beanie and hair.

 _Mine_.

It’s all he can smell, can feel. Even through her soft sweater and jeans, Betty is radiating arousal. His fangs itch, but the suppressants give him just enough control so he doesn’t rip into her soft skin and mark her as his forever.

With one long swipe of his tongue, he tastes electricity and sex. Pure power. _Betty_. It’s salty and tangy and he can’t get enough of it, eagerly dipping down for another wide stripe of her. Betty’s body shudders against him, like he’s touching her clit instead of her neck.

“Please. Yes.”

“Does this make you feel better?” he pants, pushing through the dull ache of his teeth sharpening.

Her legs squeeze tighter around him, pulling him close. “Yes. Don’t stop.”

How can he? How could he ever when she’s such a good girl for him?

There’s no more fear in the air. Just arousal. Just _need_. And he eats every last bit of it, sucking and licking and kissing along her neck, unable to resist dragging his teeth along her jaw.

“Juggie!” Her eyes squeeze tight along with the rest of her muscles. He can hear her heartbeat. Feel them bonded more by her wrists rubbing at his neck. They rut together, his tongue laving trails of arousal until she’s rocking in it, the pulse of her heat throbbing against him.

With devout fascination, he realizes that he could make her come like this.

Betty Cooper is an Omega.

Betty Cooper is _his_ Omega.

“You need to come?”

Eyes still shut tight, she nods her head.

“You need Alpha to take care of you?”

At that, her eyes open, watery and confused. “I need _you_.”

A smirk cracks through his lust.

“Please, Jug.” She rubs herself against him, tilting her chin up to give him better access.

She doesn’t know. That they can be...that they’re _meant_ to be.

Carefully, with a confidence that feels like liquid gold spinning through his brain, Jughead traces the supple veins in her neck, breathing hotly on the spot he knows will drive her wild.

A low groan accompanies her shudder. But he wants the long one. The full one.

“Betty, I’m going to help you, okay? And I want you to grind against me, just like you have been.”

She nods, burying her face against his neck to take a deep breath. Of him. She wants to breathe _him._

“Yes. I trust you.”

“Mm, good girl.”

Betty’s thighs twitch around his sides. His hips instinctively thrust into her denim-protected heat. Pressing himself against her is similar to getting a deep-tissue massage for his whole body--that same sense of intense pressure and relief combined with harried lust for more, a release of energy. As her breathy gasps hit his neck glands, his cock swells like it’s hoping to break free of its restraints and bury itself inside of her.

His nose nuzzles her neck, hands snaking up her back and digging in with his nails to support and cling to her. “Take it. Whatever you need, Betty. Take it from me.”

“Juggie--”

Watching her long eyelashes part to reveal her beautiful, caring, intelligent eyes clouded over with _want_ , he allows himself to love this part of his life. He _wants_ to be her Alpha. An Alpha. To take care of his Omega. To take care of Betty.

_I love you._

If she wasn’t clearly lost in the throes of passion, he’d kiss her. But he needs to take care of her. He needs to get off of suppressants. He wants to be everything he can be for her.

His Betty.

His Omega.

With a possessive tug on her hair, Jughead licks her until vibrations are running through her throat.

_Mine._

Her whole body tightens, and he feels this current pounding in his heart... _help her, help her_. They’re covered in each other. Arousal. Scent. And then the heat in the center of her thighs, thumping under her pulse, ripples and bursts in violent, passionate waves that make her tighten and still around him. The little gasps drown into a strangled shout.

“That’s it, baby,” he croons, grinding against her, continuing the pressure as needed. He’s aching to come with her, but on some level he knows he can’t, that she _needs_ him like this. Hard. Ready.

Groaning, Betty readjusts around him, easing up the slick between their bodies. “I can’t...that was amazing.”

“You’re amazing,” he whispers against her hair, kissing her crown, her cheeks, her neck. She flinches when he skims over her glands, and although the arousal is put more in the _air_ than directly inside of her, he still smells it brewing under her skin.

_Over-sensitive, I bet._

“Show me what you need. Show me--”

Strained with effort, Betty hoists herself up to him again, sliding until the heat almost hurts. Until he’s burning, the glands on his neck and wrists straining so much he’s afraid they’ll burst and form fins. But even then he’d still drag himself back to her body until she’s washed over with pleasure. Because every release, every time she cries out against him, it helps her. He can feel it.

But she needs his knot.

His _knot_.

This won’t be as good as being inside of her, but they shouldn’t do that yet, not in _here_.

“Betty, I’m coming with you this time, is that okay?”

Barely coherent, Betty nods vehemently. She grabs him by the back of his head, sucking that perfect mouth against his neck until the burning sensation turns to lightning across his gut.

_Be good for her, good for her…_

Arousal shoots so violently from his cock that he has to shout, mouth buried against her shoulder. Oh, his teeth are _here_. He could just bite down and have forever. But even amidst his tears, his closed eyes, his actual physical pain and pleasure, he knows that wants her to _beg_ him to do it.

_My good little Omega. My sweet girl Betty._

Betty’s stroking his hair, peppering his face in kisses when he emerges from his drowsy post-orgasm haze.

“You okay?”

She bites her lip, looking nervous, but not _afraid_.

“How are we possibly gonna go to class today?” she asks, eyes bright and a bit restless.

He laughs, kissing her prettily on the mouth without even thinking about it. They haven’t...discussed things. But she doesn’t pull away. Although he stiffens, momentarily unsure, she leans forward and kisses him back, easing the worry that this is only sexual. Kissing feels more romantic. He licks his lips, desperate to savor every part of her.

“I’ll take you to the nurse once classes start. We’ll explain, and...get you home.”

Betty groans, twisting her lip under her teeth. “Am I gonna have to tell my parents?”

“Maybe not right away,” he shifts, fully aware of how cold and plentiful the evidence of what they’ve done feels when he’s not pressed right up against her. Maybe she feels that way too. Misses him. “But once they get home, I’d recommend it, if only for privacy reasons. A heat is supposed to last about a week, right?”

“But...we can’t miss that much school. Nor that much...fluid,” she flushes, heat flooding her face for a totally different reason.

Dopamine and pheromones fuzzy up his brain as they nuzzle together, his chuckle feeling raw in his parched throat. He can feel the tension drain from her shoulders with each rub over the back of her sweater. “We can rehydrate.”

“Juggie, seriously, I can’t ask you to--”

“Stay?” he finishes, lightly brushing their mouths together. Betty’s already a bit dazed-looking. “I’d do anything for you, Betty.”

“That’s...dangerous,” she mumbles, fingers trailing against his neck.

“I trust you. And I _want_ to be with you. You can’t go through this by yourself, and I don’t want you doing it with anybody else. I...I _want_ to be yours, Betty.”

Her lips curve in the widest, prettiest smile he’s even seen, distracting enough he _almost_ doesn’t notice the tears sparkling on her lashes like dew on flower petals.

Every piece of her is beautiful. Every part of her is whole.

She kisses him, smiling so much that it’s more teeth than anything else, her fingers splayed across his cheeks.

_Mine. My Betty. My darling Omega._

_Darling?!_

He almost wants to laugh at himself. At the insinuation that Omegas are the ones who are totally whipped.

The bell rings, sharply drawing Betty’s attention, and unfortunately her lips, off of him. “Oh. Maybe we can take a few more minutes? To be sure the coast is clear?” she questions, snuggling in closer. “Because I do want you too, Jug. And...even if we can’t... _knot_...I want to be yours.”

“Betty,” he hums, still buzzed under her endorphins. This smells less like arousal. More like...well, he might dare call it _love_. An Omega without a knot? She’d practically combust from her heat without a real, fantastic relief. Thankfully for both of them, that sacrifice won’t be necessary. “I might not be able to knot _today_ , but give me a few days to get the suppressants out of my system and I’ll give you everything you’ll ever need.”

“We’ll--wait, what?” Her forearms push him back so she can look him in the face. “You--you can knot?! You’re on _suppressants?!_ Why? Why would you…?” Her expressive face flitters through adoration to shock to understanding.

And then, to his surprise, her face rearranges into carefully guarded dismay. “Are you...do you think the Alpha-Omega thing is why you’re attracted to me right now?”

“I could guzzle down a hundred suppressants and still want to call you mine. My teeth have ached for you for years, before I came into it this summer. And it didn’t make sense to tell anybody then, because...it didn’t seem like the best time to be sharing that kind of thing. But being with you makes _me_ feel good, too. Like we belong together. I mean, are you only interested in me because of my somewhat-muffled Alpha hormones?”

“No,” she admits quietly, carefully tracing some pattern on his cheek. “I--I noticed Reggie’s smell this morning, sure, but I didn’t...I didn’t _crave_ it like I did yours.”

He noses her neck, inhaling deeply. The shudder that runs through her pulls him in, too.

“So it sounds like we should be mates.”

“That definitely seems like the case.”

The nurse’s office can wait a few more minutes.

 

~~~~

 

By the time they get back to her room, she’s already trembling with need again. He can tell she’s trying to be strong by the quiver of her chin. But she doesn’t need to do everything on her own anymore. Not with him. Not with _them_.

“Betty, do you want to take the suppressant, or do you want to…” he gestures to the bed. “Whatever you want.” The uncoiled, plump organ below his belt has its own opinions, but that doesn’t matter to him more than her needs.

“You’re on suppressants right now, right? So it won’t be like...the normal experience,” she reasons, twisting her lip under her teeth.

“No, but I assure you, fucking _me_ will be anything but _normal_ ,” he grins, just the slightest hint of vibration rippling up his throat in the golden gleam of Alpha confidence.

“ _Now_ , Alpha. _Please_.”

A pulsing need roars through him.

_Her Alpha. Omega needs me. Good Alpha._

Desperate, they lick and kiss and nip as layers get peeled off and they tumble towards the bed. He _wants_ to take his time, but his veins have their own mind and are straining with the urge to gorge himself on her desire. To devour and mark every inch of skin with this new access.

He can only imagine how possessive he'd feel without suppressants.

Moaning, swearing, he licks and sucks his way across her breasts, circling her nipples with his tongue, kneading them against his palm. She’s fleshy in the most perfect way. Touching her feels even better than touching himself. Every moan she utters inspires his echo. The thick smell of arousal permeates his pores, sifting anxiously above his glands as his kisses go lower and lower, until her fingers are stretching his bare scalp and the slope of her stomach slides gracefully under his tongue.

“Please, Juggie. _Please_.”

“I’ll take care of you,” he promises wetly, sucking his fervor into her skin.

He tempts her entrance with his fingers. The velvety warmth feels _perfect_. Before his transition, he might’ve been trembling and nervous and afraid to penetrate his love, but Alpha instinct carries his fingers to stroke and curl into her slick heat, thumb rolling a circle against the bundle of nerves that makes her sharpen and keen.

“Please, Alpha,” she keens, scratching her nails up along his back as if it’s possible for him to be further drawn in. His tongue dips down between the crease of her thighs and stomach, following the V along her hot skin until he can admire her open sex, kissing the bundle his thumb spread in preparation. Her legs jerk out against him, and he throws one over his shoulder, the other pinned under his arm so he doesn’t get clocked licking her.

Strangled yearning stretches her whole body.

“Good, Betty. You’re so perfect. You’re so fucking perfect. I’m gonna take care of you,” he promises, stroking her breasts, her belly, and the underside of her wrist before pressing his mouth to her cunt.

It’s strange, at first, licking and sucking a part of her that’s already slick and waiting for him. But the more he scoops and swirls the more lost in the _taste_ of her he becomes. It’s not just her scent. It’s not just hormones and need. It’s a tangy hunger deep in his bones, coating and soothing his throat.

When he heard talk of sex, he assumed the books and movies romanticized, dramatized it. And they did. Because nothing could possibly prepare him for the feeling of Betty rutting and crying out while he assaulted just a tiny little part of her. The satisfaction of having her whole body shudder because of _him_ , a fresh coat of glossy arousal wetting his chin.

He closes his mouth around her clit, humming and sucking until she’s crying, coming undone, _begging_ for him, “Yes! Yes!”

 _Yes_.

There’s a whimper, her palms trembling over the duvet until they can caress his bare back. “Alpha, I need you.”

A low grumble reverberates through his chest, and as unlikely as he thought it might be, his cock throbs larger.

 _Not yet_ , he wants to tell his eager body. He doesn’t want to hurt her.

_Never hurt Omega._

_Never hurt Betty._

_Never._

He places sweet kisses on her thighs.

_Love her. Always love her._

“Jug,” she pleads, reaching down to caress his cheek. Her eyes are dark but surprisingly aglow in the reflection of his wild hair and the intimate position between her thighs.

_Betty._

Crawling upwards, feeling his shoulders ripple and stretch, Jughead braces his body amidst her own.

“I’ll take care of you,” he murmurs, the steady thought as he catches the way her lips are starting to crack, desperate for moisture, which happily line her eyes. He kisses her, stroking her jaw and down to her neck.

What he’d give to be able to mark her _now_. Let his teeth sink into her the way everything else should. But they have to wait until tomorrow. They _should_ wait until tomorrow, when the suppressants will be flushed out of his system. But his gums ache for her anyway, tongue still swollen and coated in her arousal.

“I’ll be good to you.”

Betty shifts, threading her fingers at the nape of his neck, thumbing his glands until his skin is buzzing. He clenches his jaw in an attempt to hold back a growl, but she’s looking at him with such uninhibited trust that he wants to howl. “I’ll be good to you, Juggie. Always. Please. _Please_.” She spreads her thighs, lifting her hips up to him.

Sinking into her feels like falling into a dream. More than that, maybe. Like dipping into liquid gold and hardening the next instant only for the next thrust to break him apart like a hammer until his desire is raw and burning again. The friction hurts with the intense satisfaction of scratching an itch, soothed by the slickness of her body, the warmth of her embrace.

“I love you,” she murmurs, tracing the tendons of his neck down to the lines of his chest, over his heart.

_Omega loves me._

Painfully stretching, Jughead can _feel_ his bones swelling, his gums receding.

_Fuck._

He wants to bite her.

“Betty...I need to…”

It hurts so much that he has to close his eyes, pound into her harder, just to distract himself. His cock swells with the beginnings of a knot. Not large enough to slow them down, but enough to feel tied together.

Betty’s eyelashes flutter, struggling to stay open amidst the emotion he’s thrusting into her.

“What? What do you need?”

The sound of their flesh smacking together under her soft dulcet tones only makes the vibrations in his chest thrum harder. And her fingers...her fingers at his neck...

Voice gone completely gravel, he growls, “I need to make you mine.”

She feels so _perfect_ , she _is_ so perfect.

Her eyes shine with emotion, with resolve, before clouded over with lust. He _needs_ her. It hurts to even close his mouth, so it stays parted, teeth aching as he pants above her brilliant face.

“Please, Betty. Please. Be mine. Be my Omega.”

“Yes. I will. I am. Please. Mark me. Please, mark--”

The ache in his jaw finds its relief buried in the juncture of her neck. There’s the bitter taste of iron, of salt, but more than anything he tastes her arousal, their promise.

 _Love_ , his Alpha brain commands him. _Love._

_Love._

_Love._

The fog thins just enough for him to make out her fingers trailing along his shoulder blades, her shuddering moan.

She’s coming. Regardless of how big the knot is, he’s coming too, swept away by the pull of her current. The tightness of her sheath. But this...still having his teeth buried in her gland...it does something else. Something that blanks out the rest of the world into blinding electric light and hot, muggy darkness where all he can feel is Betty.

_Betty._

_Mine._

_Betty._

He pumps through her orgasm, slowly letting the fog slip away until she shudders and stills, her body cooling at an almost alarming rate. Unlatching from her mark, he pulls back, sucking and licking the spot in the hopes it’ll heal.

“My Omega. Mine.”

“Yours,” Betty murmurs faintly, fluffing his hair. Her ankles must have been hooked around him at some point, because now they drag along his hip until she’s splayed open for him again. Not in want, but in relief.

“Betty,” he purrs, nuzzling her neck, dropping his cheek onto the pillow next to her.

_Don’t leave me yet._

But she’s so tired, he can tell. And maybe the suppressants are the only thing keeping him awake, the only things that kept him from knotting and spilling forth what would no doubt be an excessive amount of enthusiasm for mating with her. So he snuggles into her side, trying to support her body in any way he can.

Each blink seems to take her significant effort. But she struggles to stay with him.

His mate.

_His mate._

“Betty.”

“Juggie.” She hums, wrapping her arms around his neck and shifting so they’re more comfortably side-by-side. The mark doesn’t appear to hurt her. “Stay.”

He kisses her shoulder, cognizant but a little overwhelmed. “Yes.”

Watching her fall asleep, hearing her _rest,_ feels abnormally calming. He nuzzles her as she sleeps, kissing her neck, smiling when she stirs and snuggles closer to him.

_My mate._

_My Omega._

_Mine._

_Mine._

_Mine._

 

~~~

 

He drifts awake, immediately curling Betty closer to his chest.

_Mine._

As soon as she awakens, she needs him again. His fingers slide between her legs as they kiss languidly. She gets on top of him to _try_ that position, and he gets so worked up that he has to pull her chest flush against him and nuzzle into her neck as he knots them together and comes with her again.

It’s exhausting, but it’s good. They keep a rhythm up until he starts to get a headache and he can sense her dizziness start to set in. The suppressants probably aren’t going to let him keep up this stamina.

“Betty, I need to get us some water. And food. I’ll be back as soon as I can, okay?”

“Don’t--” Betty blinks, trying to clear the fog of pheromones around them. “Don’t be too long, okay?”

“Okay.”

He hops out of bed, quickly shimmying on his jeans and t-shirt before kissing her cheek. She looks almost morose, like he’s leaving her for months instead of a few minutes.

“I’ll be right back,” he smirks, trying to channel a reassuring shade of Alpha for her.

“That’s what they say in horror movies.”

Everything in the Cooper house is pretty healthy, so he grabs some various fruits, some peanut butter, and the water bottle with a filter built in before high-tailing back upstairs. He pauses, lingering in the study. Maybe he should make a sign...just in case...for her parents. He jots down “HEAT” in all-caps and haphazardly tapes it to the door. That should give the Coopers a nice, lovely heart attack.

When he pops back inside, the shower is going and Betty’s not in the bed. He drops their sustenance on the side table.

“Betty?”

Something’s not right. Her smell…

There’s no fog in the bathroom. It’s clear and almost...chilling. Even her silhouette isn’t where it should be, and he peels back her abstract flowery curtain to find Betty shivering and huddled into herself on the tub floor.

All the honey-warm afterglow of their heat drains to his toes.

“Betty!”

He reaches out, gently brushing her arm. The water’s _freezing,_ but her body’s burning underneath. It’s surprising that the water doesn’t evaporate and hiss off. Betty looks so _vulnerable_ that it makes his teeth ache. Wet, clumpy hair. Mascara running wild down her cheeks. Trembling, swollen lips. And the still-burning mark that will stay with her forever.

“Betty, what’s going on?”

Eyes red-rimmed and wild, she turns to him. “I just...I can’t control it, Jug. I need you. I can’t think. I can’t--” She shudders harder than he’s ever seen. Instinctively, he pulls her chest against his for warmth, soaking himself in the process. His shoulder takes most of the onslaught of the cold water from above. “I don’t want to have babies in high school, Juggie, but all I can think about is mating with you. How I need you inside. That there’s this _pressure_...this pressure I need to alleviate. And I don’t want to _use_ you. How are we supposed to write our papers? Or finish organizing the Valentine’s Dance? What if I’m like this the rest of my life? What if I lose myself and we can’t even talk or watch movies because I’m just trying to _mount_ you all the time...and then we’re not _friends_ anymore--”

Although her throat is tight, the current pouring of icy water makes it difficult to tell if she’s crying or not.

Panicked desperation seeps through his pores.

“Of course we’re friends. We’re--partners. For life.”

_Make her feel better. Take care of her._

Stroking her back, Jughead tries to soothe her. It’s killing him to watch her cry and tremble. It physically pains him on a deep, gut-instinct level that hurts worse than any Alpha bullying he’s ever experienced. It’s like his soul is being stretched to try and cloak or protect her.

“We’re in this together. If you want to eat, we can get you some suppressants. Maybe then you’ll feel a bit more like yourself. I know it’s been...a lot, today.”

Sobbing, she nods, kissing and nipping his throat. “You know that outside of a heat, I do want to be with you.”

He chuckles and holds her closer. “Glad to hear that, considering we soul bonded. You’re stuck with me for life.”

She shivers with laughter this time, her smile pressed against his neck.

“There’s my good Omega,” he murmurs, stroking her hair, untangling it as best he can with his fingers. She purrs against him at the praise. It’s so easy to love her. Pressing kisses along her temple, Jughead reaches around and turns the water off. “You’re okay now. Alpha will take care of you. I’ll take care of you, always, Betty.”

Taking his hand, she delicately steps out of the tub and allows him to towel her off. As he’s kneeling, drying behind her knees, he can smell the arousal and heat radiating between her legs. Daring to glance up, he sees her red and swollen sex. Weeping.

_Omega needs me._

His tongue swells, daring him to taste her.

Hooking her leg over his shoulder, Jughead buries himself within her folds. Gasping, Betty latches onto his hair.

“Jug, I thought--”

“I’ll take care of you,” he hums, _feeling_ her body release its tension as he applies attention to her engorged clit.

_Please Omega. Please your girl._

Short, sharp swipes combined with generous sucks have her trembling, murmuring his name, his calling.

“Jughead...Alpha... _ah_!”

Leaning forward, she holds onto him as she tightens, coming hard against his tongue.

_That’s it, that’s my good Omega._

He massages her hips through it, kissing her clit and thighs when she’s done. Betty looks absolutely ravished, and he can’t help but kiss her, smeared arousal on their tongues as his heart beats, _Mine._

 

He feels a bit more himself as he peels back a banana, feeding it to her in between sips of water. Pressing the tip of the phallic fruit to her lips is a mistake, one that has them fucking hard against her mattress until the headboard nearly snaps. But their headaches get more persistent, so they focus on rehydrating and eating as much as they can.

“Here,” he sniffs, passing her the suppressants. “You might feel a little sick at first, but it should help with your heat.”

“Thanks. I love you.”

It’s said without ostentatiousness. The sentiment is just _there_ now, a thing that floats to the surface. He smiles, a thick, warm glow spreading in his chest.

“I liked it when you pinned me down,” she smiles, long eyelashes guarding her satisfaction. Her hand wanders down his thigh, squeezing.

A growl works its way up his throat. He eyes the mark on her collar, itching to sink into her.

“Keep that up and I’ll do it again.”

“Promise?”

He whines, kissing her temple.

“You have to rest.”

“Fine. Then maybe later, I’ll pin you.”

A wriggle of excitement at the challenge worms through him, even as Betty demurely rests her head against his heartbeat.

After chugging down the rest of the water bottle, he settles around her to join the dreams of his soulmate.

 

They’re both startled awake by angry swearing. “Are you serious?! I swear, Hal, I don’t know what the hell is in your gene pool but _both_ of our daughters? I’m getting the damn sage.”

“Calm down, Alice. We don’t know--she could be an Alpha, helping out a friend.”

Betty’s fingers tighten on Jughead with the urgency of pulling at a safety blanket.

“I’m not just _helping you out._ I’m in love with you,” he promises, kissing her hair.

Betty nods, green eyes big and scared. But with a determined nod, she gets out of bed and starts putting on her clothes to face the horrors of her parents. A few seconds behind, he follows, gently touching her back as she tentatively reaches for the door handle. They exchange a glance, a nod.

Moving _with_ her feels right. Good.

They hold hands, filing into the hallway and down the stairs to the living room, where Hal’s waiting. His hands are poised on his hips while the whole upper half of him looks like it’s a balloon swelling big enough to explode.

Alice storms back in with sage and a lighter, fist crumpling the ends of the plant when her eyes alight on the couple before her.

“Jug-Head?” She tilts her head incredulously, looking to Betty for confirmation, who straightens and nods. “ _Jones_?” Horrified, she turns to Hal. “We need a full-blown exorcism for this family.”

“ _Mom_!”

Hal sputters, hand outstretched. “Betty, are you telling me this... _friend_ of yours is an…”

“Alpha. Yes. _Hers_ ,” Jughead affirms, squeezing Betty’s hand tightly.

A string of expletives slithers under Alice Cooper’s breath as she charges towards them. Instinctively, he pushes his chest out and gets between her and Betty.

 **_My_ ** _Omega._

“Is that--?! You better let me at my daughter, Jughead Jones.”

Growling, he’s not sure he _can._

Alice reaches past him in irritation and pulls at Betty’s sweater, gasping as he pushes her away.

_No one touches his Omega without her permission._

“Mom!” Betty protests, clutching her clothes to her skin.

“Is that a _soulmark_?! Did you bite my daughter?”

For a moment, Jughead’s concerned that Alice actually _will_ tear into him. His veins expand in a building adrenaline he can’t control, and he lets go of Betty’s hand to take a defensive stance.

“Mom, I told Jughead to mark me! I’m in love with him!” Betty insists, eyes blazing as her arms go up between the two. His fingers itch to pull her back behind him.

“Since _when_? Your heat?” Alice scowls, the implication striking him hard. That he’s not worthy of Betty’s love outside of her need.

Betty rolls her eyes. “Haven’t you noticed that I’ve been spending _all_ my free time with him lately? The Blue and Gold? Doing homework? Playing video games and watching movies?”

“Are those euphemisms for having sex?”

“ _No, Mom!_ ” Jughead almost snorts a laugh at Betty’s frustration, watching her hands smooth down her temples. He can kiss her. Soothe her. But as his hand reaches out for her shoulder, he catches the incredulous looks from her parents.

_Later._

“Look, I didn’t know Jughead was an Alpha, and neither of us knew I was an Omega. It just...happened. As it turns out, we’ve liked each other for a while, and now…” She looks up at him, eyes bright and maybe a little shy, but _happy_ in a way that makes his own lips raise in a smile. “We get to spend forever with our best friend. We love each other.”

“Ugh, I’m gonna be sick.” Ever the dramatic one, Alice turns and leaves the room.

Hal taps his foot, mouth thinning as he stares at the furniture as if he’d very much like to chastise it for its current position. “Well. I suppose now that you’ve _marked_ there’s not much we can do about that.”

“No. You can’t.” Jughead senses Betty’s about to apologize on sheer instinct, but reigns herself in, fingertips tracing his hand on her shoulder. “We’re soulmates, Dad.”

Blinking at the furniture, Hal shuffles off towards the door. “I’m...gonna take a walk. Maybe work in the garage.”

They wait until the door clicks before turning to each other.

“And then there were two,” he jokes, not sure what else to say.

“Ignore my parents, Jug. They don’t...it’s just been hard, with Polly so recently--”

He cradles her face in his palm, satisfaction rippling through him when he feels her relax into it, her big eyes focusing on him in concern. “Hey. I get it. This is a lot...for everybody. But it’s a lot of _good_ for you and me, right?”

“Right,” she nods, kissing the inside of his wrist. The intimate contact with his glands makes his cock jump to attention, _needing_ her.

A low groan yanks through him. An urge. An annoyingly persistent one, considering their just-departed company. He draws back from her tempting scent to rub a hand through his hair. “How much trouble would we get in if I took you back upstairs?”

“Depends how quiet we can be.” With a tug on his belt loops and her big, generous smile, he’s convinced that this is possibly the best day of his life.

 

~~~

 

Everything is accentuated with touch.

“Wait here. Be good. I’ll be right back.” He shouldn’t feel nervous. But kissing Betty goodbye, even for just a few minutes, makes his wrists throb with preemptive aches he didn’t even know a person could have.

Flashing him a weak smile, Betty waits by the trailer park sign, carefully sitting on the cooler she brought and cradling her duffel bag of necessities. The way she carefully spreads her thighs only reminds him how badly they need this to go well, and how desperately he wants to be between them. They need a place to take care of each other without her parents lighting the house on fire in attempted exorcisms.

The trailer door gives easily, unlocked, and he’s surprised to be greeted by a grinning FP at work in the kitchen.

“Hey, kid. Alice called.”

Jughead’s throat runs dry. His hand is still on the door. Maybe he should run. Just take Betty into the woods and rut together until they scare the animals away and have sticks permanently embedded in their backs.

FP awkwardly shuffles to the side, quickly shoving some sort of pasta into giant tupperware containers Jughead hasn’t seen him use in months. With an oddly hopeful glean, FP tilts his chin. “I, uh, heard the good news. Betty, huh?”

“Yeah.” Unsure where this is going, Jughead moves forward.

“Soulmarked?”

“Yeah.”

FP’s eagerness is sort of unnerving. But maybe Jughead’s just agitated because of the insane amount of hormones in the air. He keeps thinking of Betty, his wrists itching, neck flaring up like he has a rash.

“I came to ask...I...we need to--”

“Say no more, kid. I’ve got you.”

Jughead watches in dumbstruck silence as his dad finishes pushing the spaghetti into a tub, carefully putting it on the counter.

“That’s for later. Pasta is supposed to, uh…” He waves his hands at it. “Keep your energy up. I’ll be at the Wyrm for a few days. Just text or call if you need supplies. I’m not exactly flush with cash, but, figuring this is your first time...” FP ducks into the bedroom before Jughead can decide whether to be appreciative or horrified.

“That’s it?”

His father’s easy laughter muffles the sound of a duffel bag jostling around until the five o’clock shadow and greasy hair are right back in the kitchen. “Yeah, that’s it.”

Jughead doesn’t know what to say. He finds himself flexing his palms, sweat gathering between his shoulder blades.

The intensity of touch from today makes Jughead flinch when his father puts a hand on his shoulder.

 _Only Betty gets to touch me right now_ , he wants to tell his dad.

But that’s a discussion for later. Not when his dad is actually putting food on the table for once.

FP stares at him with more consideration than he thinks he’s ever gotten in his entire life. “I’m proud of you, boy. Betty’s a nice girl. I know you’ll be great. Alpha, and your Omega.” FP grins, as if he’s just won the genetic lottery by association. Before Jughead can warn him off, FP tries to pull in for a hug. All of Jughead’s muscles tense in protest.

“Ooh! Those hormones are strong!” Eyes watering, FP shakes his head, coughing and backing up so he can grab his leather jacket off the chair. “You two take a shower a couple times a day, okay? And don’t forget to hydrate.”

Totally on auto-pilot, Jughead follows his dad out the trailer, the metallic clank of combat boots on the small stairs echoing his disbelief that it’s just... _theirs_. For a few _days_ , at least. Betty can have her heat. He can take care of Betty.

“Betty.”

He’s not sure if he says it above a murmur, but Betty must be able to smell him, because she’s already standing, tense and alert and ready to come.

“You kids have fun!” FP waves, leaving them with a wide enough berth to satisfy the territorial nature Jughead already fears is rising within him.

A little taken aback, Betty manages a wave and a closed-lipped smile.The gesture shifts the neckline of her sweater enough that her mark is visible.

 _Beautiful_.

_Mine._

Even FP seems stricken by her presence. Or maybe he can smell her and every implication thereof. The thought makes Jughead uneasy, but his dad snaps out of it and thankfully disappears into _wherever_ the hell he goes to celebrate his son is getting laid for the rest of his life. Normally Jughead would find it ridiculous, but he’d probably be doing the same for himself just knowing that he gets to mate with Betty Cooper.

Her ponytail sways with polite intrigue. “I take it that means it went well?”

“Almost _too_ well.”

Instinctively, his hands find her waist and his lips find her neck. She inhales sharply, gently pushing at his chest, even as her hips arcs into him.

_Not here._

“Right. Okay. Let’s bring in the haul.”

He helps her carry everything inside, locks the door, and carefully places his beanie on the kitchen table. “My dad made spaghetti if you’re hungry.”

“That was nice of him.”

Even the sound of her voice seems to resonate through him. Everything seems more _intense_. More visceral. Maybe it’s the heat combined with the recent soul-bonding, but he almost can’t even register the smell of the food she’s packed over the desire to bury his face in her glands and get high off her pheromones.

No wonder she was worried about losing herself. It’s almost like an addiction.

“Betty?”

She straightens, eyebrow quirked at his rumbling tone.

“Are you hungry?”

Pushing the fridge closed with her butt and leaning against it, she nods. “How long do we have the trailer for?”

“A few days.” He ruffles stray hair at the forefront of his vision in an attempt to distract himself from the way her breasts are pushed forward, hormones still brimming just under the surface.

“That’s awfully generous.” He nods, glancing around the trailer. It’s been cleaned up. It smells like his dad even haphazardly threw new sheets on his miserable excuse of a bed. There is no way in _hell_ he’s going to go looking for condoms. Betty’s been getting shots since her sister’s incident, so they don’t have to worry about that kind of thing.

“Jug?”

“Hm?” he glances back, veins throbbing as she moves closer, carefully pulling at his jeans.

“I want to do something for you.”

“Like, heat up the spaghetti, or--”

The unzip of his fly is quickly accompanied by the pressure of her hand. He shudders, gently grasping her by the elbow so he doesn’t crumple or crush her.

“I’m supposed to take care of you,” he protests, swallowing thickly against his swelling tongue.

“That doesn't mean I'm not supposed to take care of you. I just realized that I haven’t gotten to lick a part of you...and I want to make sure it’s been claimed.”

“Betty, all of me is--”

A swift kiss on his lips silences him before Betty bends down, taking his length in her mouth. Stunned, he stumbles back, the sound of him slipping between her lips makes him harden all the faster.

“Mine?” she teases, licking his tip with an expression he can only describe as rapturous.

_Mine. My Omega._

Thoughts get cut off in a surge of adrenaline when she takes him in her mouth again. How can she take so much...can hum until he’s throbbing and vibrating down her throat…

Betty takes everything. Not that she can fit him in his entirety (there is the knot to consider), but there isn’t any part of him that feels it shouldn’t give himself to her. It’s hers. It’s difficult to let her control the tempo, but watching her is hypnotizing. Enchanting. Every lift, every lick is so precise, so thorough, that he almost comes from the care of it alone.

“Betty, I need you to take off your clothes,” he groans, massaging her neck and shoulders, trying not to pump. If he does, he’ll see stars.

Licking down his shaft and balls, Betty slides out of her clothes using only one hand for either job.

“Good Omega. So dexterous,” he grins, thumbing her lip. Patient, waiting, Betty nips his finger and rubs her way into his wrist, stimulating him with gentle kisses. “My good girl. You’re so good to me.”

She looks up, her eyes dark and wet. “I want you, Alpha.”

“Get up.”

As she struggles to stand, Jughead takes over, cock still laced with her spit as he lifts her up and places her on the counter.

“You need help?”

She shakes her head, gleefully pulling his face into her neck as her heels urge his hips forward. He slides into her heat, teeth sinking into her skin. The cabinets rattle. The dish soap quivers, bubbling over until a breathless Betty reaches over and caps it amidst their thrusting. All he smells is her. _Them_.

“So good,” he insists, angling her hips until she’s almost falling off the edge. “Taking care of Alpha.”

“I love you.”

This time, the knot expands inside of her, thickening until he can barely pull back enough to thrust. She’s keeping him. Her nails dig into his shoulders, the warmth of her gasps somehow cooling the sweat on his skin.

“Come on,” he urges, rolling his hips as best he can. They kiss deeply, moaning as her nails trace a path up his spine and into his scalp. “I know you need me. Come, Betty. Come for Alpha.”

Her heat pulses in waves, clamping down on him so tightly that he has to suck against her mark to handle the force of it.

Emptied, he softens, but the knot holds them together. Betty smiles in satisfied exhaustion and leans back against the cabinet. “You still hungry?”

“Aren’t you the insatiable one? I thought that would keep you at least a few minutes.” He jerks his neck in attempt to flip his hair over. Betty’s tender fingers to the job for him, tilting his chin for a quick kiss before she leans to the side and snags the tupperware full of spaghetti.

“I saw this thing in a movie once.”

“Spaghetti?” She shoots him a look, hooking her fingers into the tupperware while they’re still joined, gently rocking against him. “Are you...multitasking?” he chuckles, watching as she takes a pinch of the pasta and drips one end in her open mouth. Noodles arching down her chin, their ends held out like a bridge, she shrugs.

Her words get garbled in the attempt to keep the pasta in her lips. “Am I _sharing_?”

This playfulness is good. It’s more _them_ , maybe, even as they’re unable to pry themselves apart. Not that they’d _want_ to. He leans forward, catching the other end of the pasta and sucking her fingers until the ends are safe. Energized by the challenge, Betty moves in on the pasta trail with her tongue, slowly swallowing as he does the same. Their lips get closer, eyes crinkled in amusement, until he surges forward and snaps the spaghetti with his teeth.

He loves seeing her happy.

Chewing, still tasting the buttery slickness of the pasta and salty goodness of her lips, he smiles.

“I love you.”

Looking slightly mischievous, a big grin lighting up her face, she pulls out more spaghetti. “I know.”

 

~~~

 

Abrupt shaking and banging wakes them from their rapture, tangled in each other’s limbs.

“What _is_ that?” Betty moans, groggy. Her thigh is hooked over his hip, and although they’re no longer knotted from the most recent endeavor, they might as well be.

“I’m guessing your mother. And a shotgun. It’s been a few days. She’s probably decided to kill me first and _then_ perform the exorcism.”

A half-hearted chuckle disrupts her even breathing as well as the continued knocking at the trailer door. “We have to get that.”

“You’re in heat. You’re indisposed. We can’t.”

“What if it’s important?” she hums, already sliding towards her clothes.

“ _Stop_ ,” he orders, not quite commanding her, even if she does shiver a little. “I’ll get it. You rest. Drink some water.”

They kiss, taking physical effort to disentangle themselves. The pheromones are so thick in the trailer that he’s almost dizzy on them.  He hops into his pants just as a familiar voice interrupts the knocking.

“ _Betty_? I know you’re in there. I _saw_ Archie drop off your homework in the mail slot, and if you don’t answer the door _right now_ I’m throwing it into Sweetwater River.”

“What?” Betty gasps from the bedroom.

Shoving his hair under his cap, Jughead opens the door to be greeted by an annoyingly put-together Veronica Lodge.

“What do you want?”

It’s not exactly polite, but since he’s stopped taking his suppressants, he’s found he has much less patience for other Alphas. He has difficulty checking his annoyance in _general._

Arching a bold eyebrow, she eyes him over, holding up a prim bag of what smells like pastries. “I came to check with B about the Valentine’s Day dance. Since she hasn’t been in school the last few--” Gagging, Veronica holds a hand up to her nose. “Are you _mating_ in here?”

Feeling a bit cocky, he leans against the door. “Didn’t notice I was missing too?”

“No.” It’s not meant to be insulting, and maybe now he gets her abrasiveness a little bit better. _Hormones_. What a nice fallback. “Are you--? I’m confused. Is Betty…” She whispers the rest, “in heat?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Because that explains... _this_ ,” she gestures. “I thought she smelled different the other day.” Shifting in her heels, she has the good sense to look embarrassed. “So, does she need an Alpha?”

“She _has_ one,” he snaps. He’s not even sure if Betty and Veronica would work, given the dynamic. He doesn’t have to worry about it, though, because Betty is his. Forever.

Veronica’s mouth opens in a burgundy shock, eyebrows furrowing. “Wait, what? You?! You’re an Alpha? Why are you--”

“It’s a long story, but Betty doesn’t need a date to the Valentine’s Day dance. She picked her date. Forever. So...thanks for the pastries.”

Snapping the bag from her hands only serves to tear it, Veronica’s nails deeply entrenched in the crease. Fuming, Veronica looks like she’s about to rip her claws into _him_.

“You! Did you take advantage of a vulnerable--”

“V!” Betty pushes past, her pheromones basically a bomb to both of their senses. Jughead feels heady, leaning towards her and carefully cradling the leftover pastries.

_Food for Omega. She needs sustenance. She needs me._

Even Veronica looks taken aback, probably bowled over by Betty’s scent clearly mingled with his. The overwhelming urge to bury his face in Betty’s neck makes him whine a little. He should respect her friend. Even if she is an Alpha. Betty is his. No one can take her away from him. No one.

“God, B? Are you okay? Did he--” her eyes fall in shock to the mark on her neck.

Betty grins, messy ponytail swaying as she looks back at him. A purr rumbles in his chest along with the desire to capture her hair and snake it through his hands. “Yes. We did. We are. And it’s good. Jughead has always been...there for me. I’d been feeling like more than friends for a while now, and he’s great. It’s great. It’s… pretty perfect, even,” she preens, smiling into her own shoulder in barely-contained glee.

_He makes her happy._

Knowing how much she normally avoids mentioning anything resembling perfection, Jughead’s overwhelmed, and buries his smile against her mark.

“Easy, Romeo,” Veronica frowns, pushing his forehead back as he inhales against Betty’s skin. “Save the foreplay for the bedroom.” Her nail leaves an annoying indent on his forehead, and he rubs at it with the hopes it’ll go away. With a wary glance between the mates, Veronica slowly regains her composure and fixes Betty with a look.

“I suppose finding you marked and mated is better than what I was expecting, which was some kind of serious bout of the flu. You two seem...well-suited. And happy. Veronica Lodge approves.”

Jughead tries to resist rolling his eyes. _Like it matters._ But Betty’s practically beaming, and her joy inspires a warm buzz in his chest.

“I wish you every happiness.” Veronica sways as if she’s about to hug Betty, but the hormone markings are so strong that they physically repel her by scent alone. Blinking harshly, her smile forces itself to be enough. “You two enjoy the pastries. I’ll see you after the heat, I presume? I’ll fill you in on all the Valentine’s drama when you get back.”

“Thanks, V! I’ll fill you in too,” Betty grins, leaning back into Jughead until her ass presses up against the seam of his pants.

Veronica raises a perfectly manicured hand and waves. “Don’t get pregnant!”

The brunette disappears into a black car, escorted away in elegance, and Jughead breathes deeply into his girl.

“You’re not going to tell her about all the ways we’ve mated, are you?”

“No. That would take days, if not hours,” she sighs contentedly. “But I am going to tell her that you’ve been taking _really_ good care of me.” Her nails trail his knuckles, the light sensation migrating to his wrists.

His lips curl mischievously, along with his toes. “Yeah?”

Although he’d been getting food for her, maybe now that they have pastries...

Gasping, Betty moves so quickly into Jughead that they end up tumbling back inside the trailer.

“What?”

“Juggie, I totally forgot about the dance. I didn’t even ask Veronica about her dress, or her date, and I didn’t offer to help set up decor--”

Her words are muffled by his mouth. Slowly, his lips pull the tension from her brain.

“She’ll catch you up. Later.” His nose nuzzles down her jaw, into her mark, licking it until she’s shivering against him in the living room. He likes Betty this way. All ways, but especially when she can relax without anyone’s expectations weighing down on her.

“You know, this is the first Valentine’s Day that I’ll have a straight date,” Betty muses, fingers dancing along his neck.

His teeth drag against her glands, and he can _smell_ the arousal rising within her as she shudders. “It won’t be the last.”

“No. But I was thinking...I have all this whipped cream and strawberries I was going to use for cupcakes for the dance. It would be a shame to let them go to waste, don’t you think?”

Salivating, Jughead pulls back and takes in her face. Long eyelashes. Knowing green eyes. Bitten, swollen pink lips. And a jawline sharp enough to grind his teeth on.

His voice comes out deep, rumbling. “I hear that mating can make a person _very,_ very hungry.” She nips at his chin, playful, eager, and he wonders if she can mark him right back.

 _Mine,_ he thinks, and dips down for another taste.

**Author's Note:**

> Yay for sustenance and sex! I humbly request emojis and words in response. Good things? "Oh no" things? Pick your fav sentence or let me know if you've ever read A/B/O before. Tumblr life is at lovedinapastlife


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